Tennis
As the small
Yellow ball sores towards me
I feel the muscles in my arm
Tense up as I grip my racket.
As my arm moves through air
I feel as if I am cutting the air.
The racket comes into contact with the ball
As the ball travels through the air
I feel vibrations travel up my arm,
And into my body.
As I run from one side of the court,
To the other,
I feel everything below my feet.
The rocks, the concrete,
And even a bug or two.
My hair flys out of my face.
And beads of sweat appear on my forehead.
Feeling every ray of sunlight,
And every slight breeze.
Yellow ball sores towards me
I feel the muscles in my arm
Tense up as I grip my racket.
As my arm moves through air
I feel as if I am cutting the air.
The racket comes into contact with the ball
As the ball travels through the air
I feel vibrations travel up my arm,
And into my body.
As I run from one side of the court,
To the other,
I feel everything below my feet.
The rocks, the concrete,
And even a bug or two.
My hair flys out of my face.
And beads of sweat appear on my forehead.
Feeling every ray of sunlight,
And every slight breeze.